


Stiles' Wild Ride

by captaintinymite (augopher)



Series: Lyric Lines as Dialogue [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunk Stiles, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Injured Stiles, M/M, NOT by Stiles or Derek, Tumblr Prompt, paramedic Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been cheated on, and Scott takes him out to get drunk to nurse his broken heart. Of course, drunken Stiles makes poor life choices. Cue paramedic Derek, and the rest, they say, is history</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles' Wild Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt:
> 
> "PROMPT 9. "I’ll need thirty-seven stitches, to keep the pain in.” drunk!Stiles please?"  
> Lyric comes from Drowning Pool's "37 Stitches"

“Why’m I so pathetic?” Stiles whined into his arms which were folded on the table. “I thought we had a good thing going? Why’m I such a terrible boyfriend?”

Scott clapped his best friend on the back, his best friend who had been nursing a healthy buzz for the last couple hours. “You’re not a terrible boyfriend. You just have terrible choices in partners.” He winced. “Okay, so that might have been the wrong thing to say. What you need is to go for someone outside of your normal type. You know, someone different. Be spontaneous about someone.”

Stiles hiccuped. “She was- She cheated on me with my roommate! You know…the douche with the popped collars, two hundred dollar shoes. I took her to Hawaii, and she cheats on me with a dickwad who bathes in bad cologne and practically lives in the tanning bed!”

“I know. You may have mentioned that. Come on. I think you’ve had enough to drink; I should get you home.”

“I can’t go home! Brad still lives there. I can’t go back andlookatthatsmugassface.”

“Nope. You’re sleeping on my couch.” Scott grabbed him under the arm and hefted him to his feet. Luckily for them both, Stiles, though slightly drunk, was still able to walk.

As they neared the door, something on the other side of the bar caught Stiles' eye. “Be right back.”

“What? Where are you-”

“Gotta take a piss, Scotty.” He left Scott standing by the front door and pushed his way through the crowd. _Be spontaneous. I can be spontaneous_. He took a deep breath to steel his courage and waited for his turn. Less than a minute later the emcee turned to him.

“Sure you’re up for this, Kid?”

 _Dude, I’m not that hammered._ “Yep.”

The guy handed Stiles a release form, which he absolutely did not have trouble filling out. Then, he went through the basic rules and technique. When Stiles nodded that he understood, the emcee grabbed his mic. “Next up we have, Stiles! If you make it thirty seconds, you get a free drink. Think you can do it?”

Stiles squinted to read the guy’s name tag. “Dan, Dan, Dan my man. I am a pro.” Lies. Total lies. Stiles had never done this in his life. But that was the beauty of alcohol. When drunk…he was invincible! He could do anything. Just watch him. He was gonna ride this bull like a boss. Stiles chuckled at his unintentional innuendo.  _You go, Stiles. Ride that bull._

He put his foot into the stirrup and hefted himself up onto the metal beast. His fingers grabbed tightly to the…hand hold thing. What the hell was that called again? He quickly decided he didn’t care and waited for the buzzer. At first, the bull started slowly, but in no time was bucking him all over the place. Somehow, somehow he managed to hold on.

_I can do it! I am the greatest mechanical bull ri-_

His train of thought derailed as he suddenly found himself flying through the air before he landed on the mat with a sickening crack. He looked down at his arm. Well, how about that? He did not remember that sticking out of his arm normally.  _Isn’t that odd?_

With curious fingers, he poked at the protruding bone, prodding at the wound until he saw the emcee rush over. “Heyyyyy, how’d I do, Coach? I earn that free drink?”

“You made it five seconds.”

“See. Told ya I was a pro.”

“Stiles! What in the hell? You said you were going to the bathroom.”

“I was being spontaneous, Scott, like you told me to.”

“I meant when dating!” Scott shucked his hoodie and wrapped around Stiles’ bleeding arm. When his friend tried to sit up, he pushed him back down into the mat. “Nope. You stay there.”

“But I need to go home, Man.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. They called an ambulance.”

“What? Why?”

“Dude, you broke your arm, and it’s bleeding everywhere.”

“Really? Wow. What a way to cap off this shitty evening.” Stiles let his head loll back and press into the mat as he counted the tiles in the ceiling.

There were eighty-seven. Wait, eighty-eight.

Soon, he felt someone else kneel down beside him.

“Hi there, Stiles. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ll need thirty-seven stitches, to keep the pain in, but otherwise- I’m just kidding. I am feeling no pain. I am like in anti-pain. Booze is a wonderful thing.” He turned in the direction of the voice, and holy hell. “Oh my god. I’m dead.”

The beautiful guy with the perfect stubble and huh–what color eyes were those?–laughed. “No, you’re going to be fine once we get you to the hospital so the doctors can patch you up.”

“Nope. Pretty sure I’m dead.”

“Stiles,” and without looking, Stiles knew exactly which expression was currently gracing Scott’s face. He would be pinching the bridge of his nose, both eyes closed in exasperation, “why do you think you’re dead?”

“Because, that is the only explanation.”

“You are the worst when drunk. You know that? Okay. I’ll bite. Only explanation for what?”

Stiles patted the gorgeous paramedic on the leg. “For this god fixing my arm. Did you see his eyes, Scotty? They’re like nebulas. They’re nebulous, neburific, nebulicious.”

“Those aren’t real words.”

“Don’t care.” He gave a dreamy sigh. “Isn’t he beautiful? You have a face like a statue. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I what?” The guy arched a brow at Stiles.

“Like a work of art.” He grinned at the guy. “I’m Stiles.”

“I know,” the guy said as he worked to stabilize the compound fracture for transport while his partner fastened a blood pressure cuff around Stiles’ other arm.

“Wow. You do? Beautiful and smart. Why couldn’t I have met you before my ex? Then this whole mess could have been-” Hiccup.

“Stiles, stop flirting with the EMT’s and let them get you into the ambulance.” Scott sounded exasperated when they loaded Stiles onto the gurney.

“I’m not. I’m just flirting with  _one_  of them.” He paused when he noticed Scott not joining him in the back of the ambulance. “Hey, Scotty, Buddy, where are you-”

“I’ll meet you there. You’ll be fine; they have it under control.”

Stiles giggled. “Oh boy do they.” He was pretty sure he saw Scott roll his eyes as the ambulance doors closed. “So,” he said licking his lips, “if I were to try riding that thing again, and say…break my other arm, would you be the one to show up and fix me up?”

The guy shook his head with a chuckle. “Probably not.”

“Oh that is a tragedy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t make a habit out of breaking bones.”

“You, my glorious Florence Nightingale…dude, what’s the male version of Florence? Florencio? Doesn’t matter, because your hands are magic. Absolute magic.”

As the ambulance drove towards the hospital, Stiles continued his attempts at wooing, earning more than a few laughs from the guy and several eye rolls from his partner. Face of stone, that one.  _Some people just do not appreciate the fine art of wooage. It takes finesse and charm._

When they arrived and the doors to the back of the ambulance opened, Stiles pulled out all of the stops. “Before they rush me away to meet my doom, what should I call my white knight when I tell this story to my friends? I mean I can call you that Hot as Fuck EMT but-”

“Derek.”

Stiles sighed as the EMT’s handed him off to hospital staff. “Derek. That is like, the most beautiful name ever. Let me take you out to dinner as a thank you for making my night  _soooo_  much better than it was before.” Before he could get an answer, the doctors rolled him away, and he found himself momentarily distracted. “Okay, Doc, let’s get my arm fixed up. If you have to chop it, please make sure I get one sweet ass bionic replacement, preferably one that looks like an arm cannon.” He swore as the doors closed behind him, that he heard the other paramedic say, ‘Another one, Derek? Working with you is enough to give a guy a complex. At least this one was the right gender.” Stiles grinned to himself. Point one: Stiles

Later, when Stiles came to in his hospital room, the anesthesia finally wearing off, he looked down at the open air cast on his arm. So…not dead and no bionic replacement. He was only a little disappointed at the latter (only a little). However, sitting on the rolling table next to his bed, tucked underneath his water cup, sat a little card.

He stretched out and tugged it loose, laughing way too hard at the text on the front cover.

  

When he got to the inside of the card, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a blinding and dopey grin.

The broken arm…totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://www.captaintinymite.tumblr.com)


End file.
